


Poison

by Jadzia7667



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Slash, Threesome, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-14
Updated: 2005-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10065260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzia7667/pseuds/Jadzia7667
Summary: Not all poisons are liquid in form. Slash, yet not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Title: Poison  
Pairing: Harry/Hermione/Snape – an odd perceived triangle  
Rating: PG, perhaps  
Disclaimer: Not mine – they’re JKR’s of course.  
A/N: Thanks to Laura for beta-ing and discussing this concept with me.  
Summary: Not all poison is liquid in nature…

“You have always hated Harry; I know it, even if he doesn’t. Will you help him now?” The words of the grieving young woman echoed off the dungeon walls.

Severus Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to stave off the impending migraine he felt forming behind his eyes. “Miss Granger. Calm yourself. One either loves Harry Potter or loathes him; there is no compromise. He _will_ live.” Damn. He hadn’t intended to say that.

“It’s Mrs. Potter, as you well know!” Hermione was beside herself with frustration. Why did this man have to make everything so damned difficult? It wasn’t the first time she’d asked herself the question. 

The Potions Master’s shoulders slumped. Mrs. Potter. Yes, indeed, he knew it. The knowledge ripped his soul to shreds every single day of his miserable existence. 

“Very well. Mrs. Potter. I do not now, nor have I ever loathed your husband.” The words were measured, controlled. They rang with conviction and something more that Hermione did not want to think about.

“Then why…” The brightest witch of her generation made several leaps of logic at that point as the words being uttered sank in. Hermione Potter didn’t like the conclusion she came to, not one little bit. Snape continued, letting the wheels turn in her mind.

“When you were at school, it was necessary to behave as if I loathed Mr. Potter, for many reasons. I’m sure you can think of some of them if you try.” The tone was mocking; the posture was one of defeat. Snape suddenly looked twice his age.

“If Voldemort had ever thought…if Lucius Malfoy had ever had any reason to suspect….” Hermione’s voice trailed off. She bristled at the smirk on the face of the older man.

“Quite.” Severus slumped in his chair, looking defeated. “My life, and his, would have been forfeit in an instant. He would not have survived long enough to complete his education, much less to learn what he needed to know in order to defeat the Dark Lord as he did.”

“His life will be over far sooner than it should be if you don’t help him, Professor.” Hermione’s voice shook just the smallest bit, betraying her intense worry. “Would you leave our children fatherless?” Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“Of course not, Mrs. Potter. It was not necessary for you to come here.” Snape sighed heavily again and tried to frame his words so the chit wouldn’t find out all of his secrets. “I was informed of Mr. Potter’s condition approximately two hours ago. I began brewing the antidote immediately.”

Harry Potter, at the tender age of not quite eighteen, had defeated Voldemort once and for all in a spectacular battle that was immortalized in song, story, and _Hogwarts: A History_ , since the last battle had taken place on Harry’s beloved Quidditch pitch. From there, he’d gone on to become an Auror, and the husband of one Hermione Granger. Theirs had been a fairy tale romance; their wedding had been the most publicized event in the Wizarding world. Ever. 

Now Harry was lying in a hospital bed, not expected to live through the night without a counteragent to the poison coursing through his battered body. He’d been nearly killed by a poisoned knife. The antidote needed to be administered within twelve hours, or he’d be dead. Hermione had come to Severus Snape to ask for his help; he was the only person skilled enough to brew the antidote within the required time frame.

Hermione Potter’s voice was sharp with fear for her husband’s life and laced with confusion. “Two hours ago? I was just informed myself no more than an hour ago.”

“Mrs. Potter. Who else did you think St. Mungo’s would call on in order to brew a difficult potion to heal your husband?” Snape’s voice grated on Hermione’s ears; it was as rough and hoarse with worry as her own, she noted with some surprise.

“You don’t hate him at all, do you, Professor?” Her eyes raked him sharply, taking in details she had been too upset to notice earlier.

“No, Mrs. Potter. One either loves Harry or loathes him, as I stated a moment ago. I do not loathe him.” Snape’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It would be easier if I did.” The austere man dropped his head into his hands; he was near the breaking point himself and could not maintain his customary reserve; not with Harry lying so still and quiet. It had unnerved him badly to see the young man so close to death when he’d examined him earlier.

“I was notified before you were simply because of the nature of the injury, Mrs. Potter. Time is of the essence; the incompetents at St. Mungo’s knew that much, at least.” The sharpness was back in Snape’s tone, Hermione noted with relief. Perhaps Harry really would be all right.

“When will it be finished, Sir?” Hermione’s tone was a good deal more respectful than it had been. She thought she understood quite a bit more about her husband, and her former Potions Professor, than she had a quarter hour before. Those odd brooding silences Harry fell into at times and the things he refused to speak of suddenly made more sense to her. “He knows, doesn’t he? How you feel?” She whispered it, afraid of the answer, but needing to know it.

“Yes. You needn’t concern yourself, Mrs. Potter. He has never been unfaithful to you, nor has he ever considered it. He was quite firm and rather distressingly kind when the matter was discussed.” Snape swallowed hard. He did not want to have this conversation. “The brewing stage will be complete in one hour and twelve minutes. Then the potion must rest for one hour. When it is ready, I will floo to St. Mungo’s to administer it.” Snape’s voice was absolutely steady now. He could get through this; it was no worse than their wedding day, after all.

“Thank you, Professor.” Hermione’s eyes warmed with gratitude and a measure of sympathy.

“I am no longer your teacher, girl. In view of the circumstances, I would not object to your use of my given name.” The tone was gruff, the posture uncertain. He didn’t want to be friendly with this woman, of all the women in the world, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. She loved Harry as much as he himself did; perhaps he wanted to soothe them both. 

“Thank you, Severus. Please call me Hermione, then. I’ll make tea, while we wait.” She shot him a glance, expecting him to object. Snape did not. As much as he didn’t want to spend his time with Harry’s wife, he didn’t want to be alone. Not now, while fear lanced his heart and longing pierced his soul. Once Harry was recovered, things would go back to their usual state; he would be alone and miserable for it, but he could bear it. Just now, he couldn’t bear the solitude.

She came back a moment later with a tea tray and a plate of sandwiches. “You should eat,” was all she said as she placed the platter in front of him. He nodded his thanks and they drank silently. 

Hermione pushed her teacup aside. “May I use your floo, please? I need to check on the children and let Molly know what’s happened. I left in rather a rush.”

He nodded again and listened idly to her conversation as he moved about, completing the potion. He finished the last of the necessary stirring, spelled the fire lower and set the timer, then fixed himself another cup of tea while he ate and listened to these snippets of Harry’s home life.

Hermione’s voice was lighter, with relief, he supposed. “Hello Molly. It’s all right. He’s going to be fine. He’s rather banged up from the fighting and he got hit by a poisoned knife. Severus has already started brewing the potion that will neutralize it.”

She nodded at something Mrs. Weasley said. “Yes, they called him straightaway; it’s an obscure poison, so of course, only Severus Snape can make the counter potion properly. I’m in his lab, waiting for it to be finished. Are the boys asleep yet?”

Severus closed his eyes as her chatter washed over him; it was oddly soothing. “Good. No, don’t wake them. Morning is soon enough for them to know. They’ll want to see him and they can’t just yet. The Healer told me to go away while they repair the internal damage. Tell James to finish his Arithmancy homework in the morning. Philip can help de gnome the garden if you like; that ought to keep them both occupied until I get back.”

She continued chatting, as though she knew Snape needed to hear it. “Would you ask Ron or Arthur to go over to our place and feed the animals, please? It’d better be Ron; he’s keyed to the wards. Tell him to make sure he resets them, please, and not to forget to close the door to the snake room when he’s finished. Thanks.” Snape wondered idly if she knew that he was keyed to their wards, too. He had been since Harry had rebuilt the house in Godric’s Hollow during his sixth year, with Albus’ help. Since nobody knew it was habitable, it had been the safest place to train the boy for the inevitable confrontation with the Dark Lord.

Unconcerned, she chattered on. “Did Madeline finish her supper? She gets a bit temperamental if her routine is disrupted. There are pyjamas in her bag, and plenty of nappies. If you don’t mind, and she doesn’t put up a fuss, she could use a bath. Harry took her flying before he left for work.” Hermione’s voice caught on a sob.

“No, I don’t know how long he’ll be at St. Mungo’s. He looked bad, Molly, very bad. Severus says he’ll be all right, though.” She turned and lifted an inquiring brow at Severus, who lifted three fingers. “Perhaps three days in hospital, once the potion does its job. I’ll come over after I’ve seen him in the morning, all right? Yes, I’m going to stay with him tonight. Thanks, Molly. Kiss the children for me.”

Responsibilities seen to, Hermione sank down in the chair next to Severus and sipped her tea. Severus started when she spoke. “How long?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she clarified. “How long have you been in love with my husband? How long has he known?”

Severus supposed he owed her that much, since he’d let the information leak out in the first place. “Since his sixth year to both questions. Just before he made his intentions towards you known.”

“I see. I’m sorry.” She smiled weakly at him, unsure of what her response should be. It had been sixth year when Harry had told her he felt more for her than friendship. It had been sixth year when they’d fallen in love. It had been seventh year when they got engaged, and just after the defeat of Voldemort when they’d gotten married. Hermione supposed she should thank the older man for prompting Harry to go after her, but all things considered, it didn’t seem wise.

“Don’t be. It’s of no import.” Snape’s expression was bitter, though he tried to hide it.

Hermione tried to imagine how she’d feel if their positions were reversed. Her heart twisted in her chest. She’d never imagined she could feel sympathy for this cold, aloof man, but she did. She was gentle, her tone tentative, when she spoke next.

“He respects you, Professor. He considers you a friend.” She’d never understood why Harry kept up his odd, infrequent meetings with his former teacher before. She still didn’t, really. He was always quiet when he came away from those meetings, brooding and melancholy.

Snape laughed bitterly. “I know he does. It’s all he can offer. Fool that I am, I cannot reject even that small piece of him.”

“It’s all right.” Hermione hadn’t meant to say that. It sounded rather condescending, even to her ears.

“Indeed.” The tone was mocking, laced with pain. He steeled himself for more unwanted sympathy, but it did not come. 

“You’ll stay tonight? In case he needs you?” Snape nodded.

“He’ll need another dose of the potion, twelve hours after the first one. I’ll stay until he is quite recovered.”

Just two hours later, the two people who loved Harry Potter most in the world went to him. One would save his life again, would protect him from those who would do him harm, as he always had and always would. Severus would stay in the shadows, because that was how Harry wanted it.

The other would love him publicly and nurse him back to health and strength. She, and she alone could give Harry what he needed so badly; a family. Hermione would always remember the disturbing events of that frightening night with a shiver of uncertainty. She never spoke of it to her husband, and she never would. She never again spoke of it to Severus; indeed, she actively avoided him. 

Hermione loved her husband, and her children and her life. She’d been so surprised when Harry first approached her; she’d given up hope in fourth year that he’d ever notice her _that_ way. Even after they were married, sometimes she feared it was all a dream and she’d wake up, cold and alone, without husband or children to warm her heart.

She began to wonder why Harry had approached her so abruptly, when he’d never given any indication of his feelings before. She began to wonder if he wasn’t running from Severus instead of running to her. Perhaps his feelings for the other man frightened him so badly that he married her to protect himself. Perhaps he didn’t want to face the publicity that would inevitably disrupt his life if he was so bold as to announce to the world that he was gay. Perhaps it was simply easier for him to be with her. 

Every insecurity she’d ever felt was magnified by the thought that someone else loved her husband as much as she did. In time, she began to pull away from Harry. She became cold and withdrawn. Puzzled, he tried to reach out to her, tried to reassure her that he loved her and only her. Doubts clawed at her. All her vast store of knowledge couldn’t counteract the irrational musings of her own mind. She grew further and further away from Harry, waiting for the day he would leave her for Severus. 

Harry never understood the breakdown of his marriage. One day, they’d been happy and in love, with decades before them to deepen their commitment. The next, she’d simply…stopped loving him, apparently. Things were never the same, he thought bitterly, after he’d nearly been killed in that knife fight. Perhaps she simply couldn’t accept his career. He wished he knew what had gone wrong and how to fix it. 

He loved that woman with all his heart, but he couldn’t reach her anymore. He’d never loved anyone else, and never would. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. He tried to tell her; she wouldn’t hear him. He tried to show her; she refused to see it. Eventually, he grew so weary of the rejection that he didn’t try anymore. He resigned himself a lonely life of celibacy. Oh, he knew he could find someone else, but he couldn’t bring himself to be unfaithful to the troubled woman he loved so dearly.

Hermione couldn’t, wouldn’t divorce her husband. If he wanted Severus so badly, he’d have to tell her that himself. She wasn’t simply going to release him. They’d made promises to each other. He owed it to her and the children to get over his feelings for his former teacher. He owed it to her to make things right between them again. Even if she couldn’t trust him when he said he loved her more than anything.

Severus Snape, a bitter and lonely man, smiled faintly in years to come. He took satisfaction in knowing that he wasn’t the only bitter and lonely man in the world. Harry’s visits to him grew more frequent, though not more intimate. Severus had company and conversation from time to time, and that was more than he’d ever had before. He took comfort in knowing that Harry was as miserable in his own way as Severus was in his. He was positively gleeful when he allowed himself to think about the misery that was Hermione Potter’s life now.

Severus was a Potions Master. He could brew any antidote to any poison ever conceived. He could also, of course, brew the poison itself. No one ever seemed to realize that, or to comprehend that Severus delighted in brewing poison. With Voldemort gone, there was little call for his skill in that area, yet Severus had managed one magnificent post war opus magnum.

There was more than one kind of poison, after all.


End file.
